Doctor's Orders
by Some Kind of Sin
Summary: Things get steamy when Carlisle and Esme play doctor after hours. Esme's a little under the weather but Carlisle's got just the cure-and some pent up angst. Carlisle x Esme. A/U, light B & D, D/s, rated M/NC-17 for later chapters.
1. Dr Hottypants

**_A/N: _**_This began as a much longer story focusing on a conflicted Carlisle and his love/hate relationship with immortality, but this love scene between Carlisle and Esme came out of left field and demanded to be told first. _

_ What began as a playful, sexy "doctor/patient" story took a sudden detour into something much darker. Apparently, Carlisle has some pent up angst. But not to worry, there's plenty of sweet, concerned Carlisle too. Don't you just love it when you get some of both?_

_Many thanks to Project Team Beta (especially Darcysmom, Twilightmom505 and Mod-Mel) for patiently explaining em dashes and sorting through my dialogue! I've added to this chapter since it was beta'd, so any remaining mistakes are mine. _

_A special thanks to A Romantic Enquiry for helping me find PTB and for her continued support! _

_Okay, here we go!_

* * *

Carlisle sat in his home office, lost deep in thought. The antique clock ticking softly in the corner read 12:01 AM. The online version of the _New England Journal of Medicine_ was opened to the latest study, "Influenza A (H7N9) and the Importance of Digital Epidemiology_", _but Carlisle's attention had long since lapsed from the text before him_._

Today, like most days, he'd spent his time making rounds in the ER, seeing patients in his private practice and performing emergency surgery. And of course there were always the endless reams of paperwork involved in any medical practice. Despite his administrative title, Chief of Staff, it was important for him to stay hands-on. He needed the satisfaction of healing, helping and human contact. He needed to be busy if only to quiet his mind, but more importantly, he needed to be challenged. If there was one thing that Carlisle didn't like, it was having too much time to think. Most days, that led to endless what if's and regret.

He ran a hand again wearily over his face in a futile attempt to erase the familiar fatigue that came with perfect recall and nearly four hundred years of living. He often envied humans and their ability to sleep. What he wouldn't give to forget for a few hours at a time and to wake feeling refreshed. He longed to be able to close his eyes and let his unconscious wash away the day, escaping his seemingly all-knowing, never-forgetting vampire experience, at least for a few hours.

In the late evening hours, in the dark and the quiet of his large modern home, Carlisle allowed his mind to wander. Staring out into the darkness through the large floor to ceiling glass windows in his office, he watched icy drops of rain cling to the glass, forming a frosted teardrop pattern. He found himself dreaming idly of the possibilities of a simpler life—one where he could live freely without the fear of exposure and the burden of secrecy, for starters.

He didn't see her enter, but her sweet honey and sandalwood scent alerted him that his love had slipped discreetly into his office.

Esme slipped behind her husband and draped her arms around her husband's neck, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

"My love, it's late. Come to bed with me."

While neither required sleep, it was often comforting to lie in bed together, enjoying the simple pleasures of one another's company. Sometimes it was a relief to pretend to be human for a while. But they both knew the real reason they enjoyed sharing a bed was much more recreational.

It was a well-known fact among vampires that their kind was highly sexual. With heightened senses, enhanced abilities, and no need for rest, their physical exploits were limitless and beyond any human comprehension.

He reached up and pulled her arms more tightly around his neck and caressed them affectionately. In a gesture that spoke of his devotion to her, he slid his hand down to capture her wrist, turned it to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss there. He swiveled his chair as he turned toward her and continued kissing up her arm, finally pulling her onto his lap, where she landed with a surprised giggle.

* * *

Carlisle wrapped his arms around Esme's waist, taking in her beauty. Much to his surprise, she was wearing an enticing black satin and lace number with a corset-style closure that barely restrained her sumptuous breasts. Like a decorative bow on a gift to his senses, the corset merely accentuated her already flawless vampiric beauty. Esme was blessed with firm, full breasts that had a naturally slight upward lift, the kind most women envied and others paid good money for.

But beneath her striking physical beauty, Esme possessed an unparalleled kindness, a kind of love and acceptance of all that was good in others. Her capacity to love had no limits within her beautiful but silent heart. It was this that Carlisle loved most about her. He groaned appreciatively and resisted the urge to bury his face in her soft curves. Instead, he sifted his fingers through the silky strands of her hair and pulled her in for a kiss, shifting her weight to draw her closer.

"Soon, my darling," he whispered into the sensitive curve of her neck.

He was about to protest his unfinished work when she pressed a finger to his lips and whispered, "_Now_, Carlisle."

Carlisle's left eyebrow arched as he laughed good-naturedly, feeling decidedly turned on. He pulled back to look at her. "Impatient, are we?"

"Perhaps," she said, cocking her head to the side and appraising him with a sly smile. "I've been patient for hours already," she countered. "But I also happen to know the residence of Forks' very own 'Dr. Hottypants.' " A dimple flashed at the corner of her lips.

Carlisle groaned loudly. "You heard about that?" He had the good graces to look slightly chagrined. "I'm going to kill Emmett," he swore softly under his breath.

"Darling, everyone heard about that. Even those without bionic hearing," she assured him with a playful smile, leaving no doubt to the embarrassment he'd be sure to encounter when he returned to the hospital.

Carlisle closed his eyes and groaned louder this time.

"And there was something about…" she continued, looking up to the ceiling, feigning forgetfulness. "Oh what was it?" She tapped her finger thoughtfully against her top lip. "Dr. Carlisle Cullen ranked number one of _Seattle's Hottest Doctors_?" Her eyes dropped down to meet his, amusement playing across her features. "I think your new nickname is quite fitting."

"_This_ Carlisle Cullen?" he asked, pointing to himself incredulously. "Impossible," he scoffed, shaking his head with a small smile. Denial was so much more comfortable.

"Yes, _you_," Esme said sweetly, straightening his seam of his shirt.

Carlisle was a man of modesty and he didn't relish being the center of attention, especially when it came to his looks. Why should he be rewarded for his vampiric allure? It wasn't natural. Every part of him was seduction by design— for one sole purpose. While he appreciated compliments, he certainly didn't feel deserving of the attention, not to mention there was the added complication of drawing unnecessary attention. Besides, there were more important things to focus on besides one's looks.

Esme studied the complex range of emotions cross his face. Had he forgotten that the very human part of him—the essence of what made him who he was—was still there? Didn't he know that his essence was the true source of his attractiveness and that is what people were drawn to? His striking vampire nature was merely superficial to the deep kindness in his eyes and the compassion that radiated from him.

"Well, there couldn't have been much competition," he said with an endearing smile and a modest shrug of his shoulders. His fingers traced slow circles on her bare shoulder.

"Carlisle!" Esme huffed in exasperation as she swatted his arm playfully. "Why didn't you tell me? I think it's wonderful," she declared, lifting her chin proudly.

Carlisle snorted softly and nuzzled her cheek. "How did you hear about it so fast? Have you been eavesdropping on hapless humans again?" He was eager to change the subject.

She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "I wouldn't call it eavesdropping when you can hear their fangirl squeals all the way out in the hospital parking lot." Truthfully, it didn't bother her after all this time, but she couldn't resist mocking him about it, especially since that new male nurse, Riley, had been added to the mix. Poor Riley couldn't keep it together when Carlisle was around.

"Agreed, distasteful," he confirmed, nodding solemnly.

"But I think you mean, fan_boy_," Carlisle corrected, guessing where she was heading. "It's fan club of one, really—and male…" His words trailed off as he pondered the situation.

Esme bit her lip to keep from laughing. She lifted an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for him to finish.

Carlisle cleared his throat. "Those nurses can be quite a handful. But who can blame them"—Carlisle made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand down the length of his body—"when they have all of this to feast their eyes on every day?"

Carlisle was devastatingly handsome with a cocky grin.

"Ugh, _you_!" she squealed, poking him hard in the ribs. "You are incorrigible, Carlisle Cullen!" She pulled his head down to hers and stole a kiss, feeling his laughter bubble up and vibrate against her. Feeling decidedly bold, she coaxed his lips open, sensually running the tip of her tongue over his full lower lip. She moaned with satisfaction as he shifted restlessly beneath her.

Carlisle growled lowly, tightening his embrace. He took his time, slowly exploring the deep sweet recesses of her mouth as if it were the first time. He was nothing if not generous, especially when it came to pleasing his wife. He swirled his tongue over hers and slid his hands slowly down her back, caressing her firm feminine curves possessively.

Craving the intimate contact of her body, he drew one of her legs across his lap so that she now straddled his hips and was pressed snugly against his crotch. He was already hard, feeling it throbbing urgently against her, denied by the confines of their clothing.

Carlisle murmured against her ear, "Mmm…that's much better. Now, where were we?" He slid his hands beneath her negligee and massaged the soft skin of her lower back in small circles. Esme's skin tingled beneath his touch.

"You were telling me how much black lace corsets turn you on." The expression in her eyes was playful as she gave her already constrained breasts an extra upward squeeze as an offering to him.

Carlisle groaned, low in his throat. God, she was irresistible.

Esme's purchase of the naughty negligee was a direct result of a conversation they'd had recently about exploring each other's deeper desires. Although their love life was nothing short of spectacular, it was due partly to the fact that they improvised and experimented.

Esme had a feeling Carlisle wanted to explore some darker fantasies. He hadn't come right out and said it, but she suspected it might involve provocative lingerie and kink.

"Indeed I was," he said, taking his lover's cue with a knowing smile. He fingered the dainty bow on the hem of her nightie. "But I suspect it has more to do with the exquisite woman wearing it rather than the corset itself."

"Tell me more," she whispered.

Rolling his chair back, he pushed her back against the desk, urgently sweeping its contents to the floor with an impatient hand. His lips were hard and demanding against hers as he fisted his free hand in her hair, exposing her vulnerable neck as he tugged her head back sharply. He teased the skin there first with his lips and then with his teeth.

She inhaled suddenly as his teeth grazed the small sensitive scar left as a reminder of his bite. The tip of his tongue seductively mapped its ridges, causing her to shiver involuntarily. For a moment she was lost, remembering how this life of theirs had begun with a tormented Carlisle by her side, watching her human life slip away. Carlisle was cursed to remember every vivid detail of that tragic day. Mercifully, Esme retained only fragmented memories.

_A gentle caress on her face_

_His tortured whisper, "Forgive me, Esme."_

_The searing pain of his razor-sharp fangs as he plunged into her vulnerable carotid._

_The curious tugging sensation as what remained of her life force pumped into Carlisle's mouth_

_An instantaneous rush of heat followed by the excruciating, exacting trail of fire as his venom coursed through every nerve and cell of her body_

_The burning, the hellish burning…her purgatory in its purest sense_

_The feverish days and nights that she thought would never end as Carlisle held her hand and soothed her forehead, asked her to be strong for him and whispered words of encouragement to her._

That special agony was indelibly burned into her vampire brain. She would never be able to forget the pain… or the pleasure that followed. Carlisle had vowed to spend an eternity making it up to her.

She shivered again, awash in memories, feeling a flush of arousal between her thighs that traveled up her body in shuddering waves. Carlisle was exceptional in so many ways—as her lover, her husband, and brilliant physician. Tonight, she wanted him to examine every inch of her body.

"Mmm…" He pressed kisses against her throat, drinking in her soft skin and alluring fragrance. "Are you feeling all right? Do you need me to tend to you tonight?"

He'd undoubtedly felt the shudders in her body and was wondering if she needed his medical expertise or his loving attention. She hesitated for a moment. Tonight, she needed both.

"Oooh, are we playing doctor?" she replied, her eyes alight with mischief.

His eyes were darkly seductive. "As it turns out, I'm quite good at it."

* * *

**Sooo...what'd we think? Love it? Hate it? Just want to know what kind of kinky stuff Carlisle's got planned? Let me know!**


	2. The House Call

_**A/N:**__ Thank you to everyone who reviewed and added me to their alerts! Your feedback inspires me!_

_A special shout out to Project Team Beta for their corrections in this chapter. Any mistakes in the final draft are mine._

_**Small side note:**__ This fic is A/U and is not intended to be Twilight canon— by any means—especially where it relates to vampire physiology. Meyer's references are somewhat vague in this regard. I've attempted to keep it as true to Twilight Universe as possible, but for your reading pleasure, I've incorporated healthy amounts of creative liberty along with other vampire resources. Just an FYI so you're not screaming at your laptop, "Hey, vampires don't breathe!" I know, I know. And they don't get sick either, which is why this fic is A/U. (It just wouldn't be as interesting (read: sexy) without Esme's breathy rasps and Carlisle's warm breath, would it?)  
_

* * *

**Chapter Title:** The House Call

**Rating:** M (for sensual themes)

* * *

"You're good at it, huh?" Esme challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmm-hmmm…" He inclined his head to whisper in her ear. "It's a good thing you know a doctor who makes house calls." His breath tickled her ear, causing her to shiver.

"Should I get my white coat for the full effect? It's around here somewhere," he teased, twisting from one side to the other, pretending to look around him.

"Tempting," she said, smiling playfully. "But I'll save that for an office visit. You can give me the full effect then, white coat, stethoscope, _everything_." Her eyebrows flitted suggestively.

"Now that you mention it, I do have a new office that needs 'christening,' " he smirked.

He stood and lifted her effortlessly, drawing her legs up around his waist as he sat her on the edge of the desk. She locked her ankles around his hips, needing to feel him against her again and buried her face in the warmth where his shirt collar met his neck. Even though her sense of smell was the most keen, she couldn't quite define his scent. But like Carlisle, it was distinctly masculine, strong, and solid. It reflected his self-confident sensuality with hints of traditional woodiness and spicy modern sophistication—an utterly irresistible combination.

The occasional flicker around Esme's eyes and hint of a smile around Carlisle's mouth gave the impression that they shared the ultimate secret.

"Tell me, what seems to be the trouble?" Carlisle studied her face as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His warm eyes were patient as he regarded her with an inscrutable expression—something between love and lust and just a hint of the animalistic hunger he kept so well hidden.

Esme had no illusions about why so many nurses and patients (including Riley) developed crushes on her husband. She was currently under the same spell.

"Did you forget your flu shot again this year, Mrs. Cullen?" The corner of Carlisle's lips curved up in a knowing smile.

Esme blinked (like breathing, it was one of the many human habits she'd had to relearn that had now become second nature) and looked shyly down at his arms wrapped around her waist, toying with the sleeve of his impeccably pressed light blue dress shirt. He was surprisingly crisp and fresh after a long day of work.

"I'm—" She cleared her throat, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze as he studied her. "I'm feeling a little feverish," she confessed.

"Is that so?" Carlisle's fingers teased along her spine.

She nodded, swallowing to appease her dry throat but needing to continue.

"And I have a little bit of a headache." She gestured with her index finger and thumb to indicate a small amount with an expression that was almost apologetic.

"A what…?" Carlisle's fingers stilled, and the smile slipped from his handsome face. His flawless hearing hadn't missed the words, but he was having difficulty making rational sense of what she was saying. They'd engaged in doctor/patient play before, but that's all it had been…_play_. But this…this wasn't in their script.

"Are you saying you're really sick?" She couldn't miss the incredulity in his voice.

She nodded again, biting the inside of her lip. "I think so."

Carlisle exhaled slowly and leaned back, running a hand over his face in disbelief. He was silent for a moment as he rapidly assimilated this information. Wasn't it his job to notice these things? He wondered how off his game he really was. Had he become complacent with Esme, believing that only humans were vulnerable?

She was telling him she had an unusual headache, complicated by a fever, which indicated an infectious process—except that illnesses never occurred in vampires, _ever_. After all, they were physically immune to those types of mortal concerns—_weren't they_? He felt a cold wave of fear low in the pit of his stomach, and some part of his psyche go numb.

Carlisle took a deep breath, years of conditioned medical training kicking in, overriding the incapacitated part of his brain. "Do you have any other symptoms? Any aches, pains, or chills?"

She pursed her lips together, looking toward the ceiling for answers. "Mmm… nope." She smiled, pleased to have avoided further interrogation.

"Esme?" The eyebrow arched again.

_Damn her inability to hide anything from him._

"Yes," she acquiesced quietly, her shoulders dropping. "But I'm sure it's nothing," she added.

"Does it feel like the flu?"

She shrugged, confused. "It could be, but I'm not sure… My human memories are hazy. It's been so long."

He nodded wordlessly understanding what she meant. Ninety years could go a long way toward erasing pervasive memories of a miserable illness. Not that you could ever convince any human of that, or Edward for that matter.

"Any changes in your vision? Dizziness? Blackouts?" Carlisle felt like a desperate man grasping at straws. Not knowing what he was dealing with was a foreign sensation, and he didn't like it.

She shook her head no, wishing she could erase the distress from Carlisle's face and the annoying throbbing in her head that was interfering with what could be a very fun night.

"May I take a look?" He tipped her chin up and searched her eyes in the dim light. Despite his anxiety, Carlisle was gallant.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Mmm…You do seem a little warm. Perhaps I should I should give you a thorough check up, just to be certain."

He carefully released her from his embrace. Carlisle noticed her unsteady sway without his physical support.

"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable. Come with me," he whispered in her ear. He slid his hands beneath her knees and upper body, gathering her into his arms with superior grace and strength.

He moved her quickly up the stairs and through the double French doors of their immaculate master suite decorated in ivory, silver and crystal.

Outside, the storm was gaining strength, and the temperature had plummeted. A sudden gust of wind rattled the house, and bits of sleet pelted the walls of glass, leaving a bright white dusting of ice on the lower panes.

He laid her gently on the linens, propping her up against the headboard and pillows, pulling a soft throw over her bare legs and feet. He sat on the edge of the bed facing her and retrieved his black medical bag from the bedside table.

"When did the headache start?" he asked quietly as he shifted above her, brushing the hair back from her forehead. His fingers lingered on her skin, trailing along her temple and down along the curve of her jaw, tilting her face into the light. His trained eyes studied the details of her face, carefully assessing her, noting the tension and fatigue she'd tried to hide.

Now that he was astutely observing her as a clinician in the proper light, he also noticed that her normally vibrant eyes were glassy and the soft skin below was tinged with purplish shadows. If she were human, he would've guessed that she hadn't slept in days.

He wondered regretfully how long he'd been neglecting Esme during his long hours at the hospital and the many more he'd spent holed up in his office. The thought gnawed at him painfully. What else had he missed?

"Uh, yesterday morning, I guess. This is only the second time it's ever happened," she replied, dismissing it with a small smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

"Only?" Carlisle's eyebrows shot up.

"I didn't tell you about the first one because I didn't want to worry you. It came on quickly but then it went away. It's weird, right? I thought vampires couldn't get sick, I mean, I never..." Esme's voice trailed off, acutely aware that she was rambling nervously under the intensity of his gaze.

Carlisle felt a pang of dismay deep in his chest. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clamped his teeth down hard in an effort to ground the current of self-loathing running through him. How had he not noticed that the person closest to him was sick?

"It is unusual," he confirmed. "Have you had exposure to anything unusual? Did you hit your head at all?"

"Not that I recall," she responded quietly. She could tell by his intensity that her normally composed husband was concerned, and that made her chew her lip nervously.

"And the flu-like symptoms?"

"I felt a little off yesterday," she said, regarding him quietly.

His eyebrows registered surprise. Yesterday? The muscle in his jaw flexed again as he swallowed hard, but he said nothing for a moment.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft, but his eyes were alert and intent. "Off? Off, how?"

Esme knew his razor-sharp intelligence was rapidly categorizing and analyzing the information she was giving him, but she didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

"You know…off." Her delicate shoulders rose and fell dismissively, clearly not wanting to elaborate. Typical of Esme, she was downplaying her symptoms.

"Esme," Carlisle entreated. "I don't know. Please, tell me. Let me help you."

She took a deep breath, finally meeting his concerned gaze, and poured out her list of symptoms. "I ached all over. I felt light-headed. I couldn't get warm." She shivered, remembering, and pulled the throw closer to her body.

Carlisle winced. He'd been so engrossed in his research and studies that he hadn't even made it upstairs last night. This morning, he'd gone straight from his study to the shower and back to work. She'd still been in bed when he'd kissed her cheek and slipped out the door before sunrise. Truthfully, he'd barely seen Esme at all in the last two days.

"It's possible you were exposed to something when we went hunting," he theorized, rubbing a hand absently over his jaw in a very human gesture. "It corresponds with the time line."

Every vampire quickly learned that their bodies no longer made and replenished its own blood; it relied entirely on prey for fresh blood and nutrients to sustain them. As such, regular infusions of fresh blood were vital to replenishing strength and restoring normal function. Carlisle considered this for a moment, as the diagnostician within him went to work.

Their skin was basically impenetrable, Carlisle mused, so any contagion of that sort was ruled out. They no longer needed functioning circulatory and respiratory systems, so that meant that there was only one vulnerable pathway…

Just as their lungs no longer breathed, their hearts no longer beat. The blood of their prey suffused through the body by a process of osmosis, rather than flowing along the veins and arteries. That meant Esme's would have had direct and full exposure if the blood of her prey had been infected. But, exposure to what?

"Have you had a sore throat?" His hand went back to her forehead, then her cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing it, needing to give some kind of comfort, to express some kind of apology for not noticing sooner.

She leaned into his hand, silently acknowledging his worry, and kissed it briefly. It amazed him how one simple gesture could reassure him…but then, that's how it had always been between them.

"It started with a sore throat, she murmured against his palm. "I thought it was just painful from not hunting."

Carlisle nodded, understanding beginning to dawn. "I can see why you'd think that, but please, from now on, I want you to let me know immediately if the symptoms continue or become more severe."

Sensing his gravity, she nodded her consent.

Carlisle didn't want to concern Esme, but truthfully, he was troubled. Of all the fragile, sick people he treated every day, his wife wasn't supposed to be one of them. He'd made sure of that, _hadn't he_?

In all of his vampiric existence, he'd had no experience with any illnesses involving his kind and therefore had no reason to study it. In fact, the body of a vampire decayed so quickly upon death that even if he'd wanted to, anatomical study was impossible. Much would have to be guess work.

He pulled his medical bag to him and searched inside until he located something that was individually sealed in plastic pharmaceutical packaging. "It's a prescription pain reliever, and it's the best on the market right now, for humans at least," Carlisle explained in his easy clinical manner. "It should help with the headache and bring your fever down."

He broke the foil seal and handed a small white pill to her. "The good news is that it dissolves under your tongue so there won't be an issue of getting it into your system."

Esme frowned down at the foreign object in her hand and obediently put it under her tongue, suddenly feeling very human and vulnerable. They were feelings she didn't want to re-visit on the best of days.

"Hey." Carlisle grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "We'll figure this out. It's going to be okay. I promise." He tried to smile reassuringly, but conviction didn't quite reach his eyes. He couldn't—_wouldn't _let his doubts run wild. She needed him to keep his head on straight.

"Let's get through tonight, and if you don't feel better in the morning, I'll run some tests.

"But for now," he said, smiling flirtatiously, "I have no choice but to admit you to my care, do a thorough exam, and keep you under my close observation for the next twenty-four hours."

Esme wasn't sure what a "thorough" exam consisted of, but she was nervous and intrigued, excited even. Their play and real life were overlapping in delectable ways.

He removed a penlight from his medical bag and began by shining the light into her eyes with his right hand. He held up the index finger of his left hand and instructed, "Okay Esme, follow my finger with your eyes for me."

It was a diagnostic exam that he routinely performed in the ER to rule out head trauma and to assess neurological function. _Human_ head trauma, he reminded himself, not at all sure how any of this worked with vampires.

Ambient light glinted off the gold of his Cullen Crest ring as she dutifully followed his finger from left to right, and he observed the movement of her eyes. He switched hands and repeated the procedure with her other eye. "Good." He nodded, seeming satisfied.

"I just need to rule out that it's not something more serious. One more quick look and we'll be done with the light, okay?"

She nodded, reluctantly, feeling a newly insistent throbbing. Carlisle put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

"Okay Esme, look straight ahead for me and focus on my finger." With a flick of his wrist, he swept the bright light underneath her right eye and up, curving around the bottom right hand corner of her pupil. He leaned forward, briefly resting his hand on her thigh and repeated the exercise on the opposite side, noting with approval that her pupils were equal and reactive. He also noticed that her gold eyes were darkening with arousal.

"Patient has excellent response to stimuli," he said, smiling suggestively, clicking the light off and slipping it into his shirt pocket.

Esme smiled at his praise, nervously wetting her lips with her tongue.

Dragging his eyes reluctantly from the glint of moisture on her lips, he stood, stretched his legs, and dimmed the lights in the room to make her more comfortable.

Returning to the bed, he helped Esme to her feet and quickly turned down the covers. Esme fought to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips as her designer pillows were thrown in a half-hazard pile to the floor. Even sophisticated vampires like Carlisle had human male habits that died hard.

Finished with his redecorating project, he grinned at Esme who was following his every move with a quizzical expression. "I have a plan," he whispered against her ear before pecking her lips with a quick kiss.

He slipped his shoes and socks off and pulled her back onto the bed with him. Resting his back against the exotic hardwood of the headboard and several pillows, he nestled her between his legs so that his entire body embraced hers.

"Nice deep breaths," he whispered, as his hand made soothing circles on her back. She exhaled a slow rush of air, immediately responding to his touch.

When she'd relaxed some, his hands quickly identified the strain in her shoulders and squeezed the layers of muscles and nerves rhythmically with expert hands.

He continued his ministrations, stroking the back of her sensitive neck with his thumbs, starting at her shoulders and moving all the way up to the base of her skull. He carefully massaged along each vertebrae, alternately assessing for pain and soothing with each stroke.

His cool fingers cupped her unusually warm forehead and leaned her head back to rest against his chest. He started at her forehead with soft, exploratory fingers delivering just the right amount of pressure to painful muscles as he slowly worked his way back to her temples and her scalp and down into the intricate muscles of her neck. His fingers made rhythmic, soothing circles, as his touch tempered the pain lingering there.

Finally, his thumbs worked the acupressure points at the base of her skull. He felt the residual tension drain from her body as she slumped into him. He coaxed her head back to fully relax against his shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He whispered sweetly to her, kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently.

After several long minutes, he tilted his head down to glance at her face and saw that her eyes were closed, breath even and steady, her face relaxed and peaceful.

He exhaled deeply, finally feeling more in control of the situation. He allowed himself to relax against the headboard, shifting his hips to get more comfortable. It had been a long while since he'd enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding his wife in his arms. Being able to give her some relief was the solace he needed after the nervous doubt and regret he'd felt earlier. He held her close, savoring the feeling (even if it was an illusion) that he could keep her safe within his arms. If this was helping her feel better, he'd let her rest there as long as she needed to.

Esme was vaguely aware of the soft beeping of Carlisle's phone as she drifted into a meditative state. Over the years, she had trained her mind to induce a mode of consciousness that would direct her awareness inward, calm her senses, and promote relaxation. As a vampire, it was the closest thing she would ever experience to sleep.

The last thing she heard was Carlisle murmuring quietly as he continued to stroke the hair from her forehead. "Mmm-hmm…right, I won't be in tomorrow. Contact me here if there are any emergencies. Thanks, I'll tell her."

* * *

When she eventually stirred in his arms, he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Good morning," he said softly.

"Morning?" she asked hesitantly. "How long was I out?"

"A while," he answered vaguely with an indulgent smile. "You needed it. Feeling better?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said, nodding. Her voice was soft and dream-like. Her eyes remained closed, not wanting to break the spell.

"Good," he whispered against her ear. "Because your doctor is very thorough."

She opened her eyes slowly, the sexy glint returning, smoldering deep within her gold irises. "Is there more?"

"We're just getting started, love."

It was a promise that left her tingling with anticipation. Tiny jolts of electricity exploded in her belly and simmered in a slow burn, radiating out to all of her extremities.

* * *

**_Sigh. Don't you just love Attentive/Sexy!Carlisle? I mean, the man can make a house call, check you out, and give you a massage? What's not to love?_**

_**UP NEXT:** The Good Doctor is in. Even though Esme's starting to feel better, Carlisle gives her a thorough check up. (Not to worry, kinky/smutty goodness ahead in Chapter 4. If my muse has her way, all kinky hell breaks loose in 5.) Stay tuned! ;)_


	3. The Good Doctor Is In

**A/N: **_Thank you for your continued reviews! I love hearing from you. _

_On that note, I'm looking for a pre-reader and/or beta for future chapters. If you're interested, please PM me. Thanks._

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**Chapter Title: The Good Doctor Is In**

**Rating**: M - If you are under 18, these mature sexy times are not for your eyes. Come back when you're 18 (seriously, please do.)

**Content Warning**: Contains sensual themes and some sexuality.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program…

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He slipped from behind her and gently settled her back against the pillows, arranging them in a comfortable configuration behind her back.

Returning to her side, he removed his stethoscope from his bag. Carlisle eyed her deliberately as he exhaled on the metal disc, warming it with his breath.

Although his routine exam wouldn't necessarily apply to Esme's anatomy, they could have some fun while they were waiting for the medication to take effect. At the very least, he hoped it would take her mind off the discomfort she was experiencing.

He exhaled once more on the stethoscope, fogging the metal disc with his breath. He smiled, pleased with himself. He was nothing if not considerate. He inserted the ear tips and deftly slipped the disc just beneath the lace covering her perfect left breast.

To humans, his breath would be noticeably colder, chilly by their standards, but to Esme (as with any other vampire) it was the same temperature and it felt delightfully warm. She gasped at the sudden, humid warmth of him that lingered on her skin, arching into it, clutching the duvet with her hand.

"Carlisle, please," she moaned.

"Shhh-shh." He placed a silencing finger to her lips. "It's _Dr. Cullen_ right now and as your doctor, I need to listen to your heart and lungs." He winked as he emphasized the word "doctor", reminding her that he was in charge and he wasn't done doctoring her just yet, not by a long shot.

"Please Doctor," she begged again. Esme was breathing heavily, writhing, impatient for more contact.

"Mrs. Cullen—"

"Call me Esme, please."

"Esme," he murmured, letting his tongue savor the syllables. "That's a beautiful name." His voice seduced her senses like the smooth, rich, lingering finish of a perfectly-aged single malt Scotch. "I need you to relax for me so I can examine you. Do you think you can you do that?"

She nodded once, desperate for him to continue what he'd started. "Yes."

"Good." He returned his attention to her chest and instructed, "Take a nice deep breath in for me."

"Easy," he soothed, resting a hand on her diaphragm to calm her increasingly rapid respirations. "Nice and slow."

His head bent forward into the circle of light to listen to her.

She tried to control her breathy rasps as he listened to her, but being in such close physical proximity to him was making it damn difficult. Somehow, he still had that effect on her.

"That's it," he encouraged, nodding as she found a more normal rhythm. "In through the nose and out through the mouth."

_Damn him, he was good at this game. _

"And again?" he instructed, dipping the disc slightly lower to the curve of her breast.

Her breath hitched in response and her toes curled into the soft covers.

Soft light reflected off the gold highlights of his hair as his brows drew together in a frown.

"Mhmm," he murmured. He sat back and removed the stethoscope, draping it around his neck in one practiced, fluid movement.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. "Doctor, is everything all right?"

"Just as I thought," he expressed in his most professional medical manner. "Your lungs are clear but your heartbeat is somewhat rapid and irregular." He trailed a finger along the delicate column of her neck and down into the valley of her breasts. "And you do seem very feverish."

Esme felt a flutter of desire deep and low. If she'd had a beating heart, she was certain it would've been nearing cardiac arrest—or whatever Carlisle's technical term for it was.

"What do you recommend, Doctor?"

"I'll need to examine you more thoroughly in order to make a proper diagnosis."

A sexy smile played at the corners of his lips. Carlisle was clearly up to something and she couldn't wait to find out.

Esme cocked a flirtatious eyebrow at him. "Is that really necessary—this…further examination?" She drew a finger between her lips, toying with it between her teeth as she slid her bare leg against his clothed thigh.

"Can't you, you know, just give me something now?" She looked almost hopeful.

Carlisle chuckled heartily. A smile rippled out across his face, crinkling the area around his eyes. The response seemed to temporarily lift the weight of the world from his shoulders, making him appear infinitely younger. Although Esme's plea was transparent, he loved her for trying to get off easy. Not a chance that was happening tonight.

"As your doctor, I really must insist." His fingers grazed the side of her breast, trailing down to rest his palm on her hip. "It would be unethical for me to prescribe something for you without fully diagnosing the problem, now wouldn't it? Hmm?"

He brushed her hardening nipple with the pad of his thumb, trailing lazy circles around the pink border of her areola for good measure. He smiled with satisfaction as he heard her gasp.

"Tell me Esme, when did you start feeling ill?" He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he spoke and reached for his medical bag again. This time he removed a thermometer, setting it on the nightstand, making sure it was in her line of vision.

He leaned over her, casually bracing his hands on either side of her waist. The metal of his stethoscope caught the light as it dangled from his neck. He studied her face, patiently waiting for her to respond.

Esme envied his human patients at that moment. Years of practice had polished Carlisle's already extraordinary bedside manner. Even in the dim circle of light, Carlisle was the epitome of sex—all lean muscle, square-jawed, testosterone tempered with tenderness. Every woman's fantasy_, _she thought. She shivered in anticipation.

Distracted for a moment, she replied, "Yesterday, after my husband left for work." Her voice had a far-away quality to it.

Truthfully, she had ached for him. She missed him terribly when he was gone.

"Mmm-hmm…and did you call your husband?" His eyes remained steadily on hers as his fingers stroked the ribbons of her bodice.

"I wanted—," she stammered, finding it difficult to concentrate. "I thought about visiting him at the hospital—"

"Did you?" He immediately hardened again at the thought of Esme surprising him at work and the fun they could have in his new office, or more accurately on his new desk—his very large, indestructible desk.

"No," she paused thoughtfully. "I thought he'd be too busy to see me. I didn't want to disturb him," she answered honestly.

A flicker of something indefinable crossed Carlisle's face. His shadowed eyes dropped as he fingered the delicate strap of her gown. He cleared his throat softly and when he responded, his throat was tight but his voice was confident. "I can assure you, he is never too busy for you. He would want to know immediately if you were not well."

Carlisle inhaled deeply, looking regretfully down at her. "Esme, will you promise me that you will let me care for you—no matter what the issue? No matter how big or small or how busy you think I am?"

He paused, squeezing her hand for emphasis before continuing. "You are my first priority. Do you understand?"

The nod of her head was imperceptible.

Carlisle had a way of speaking with sincerity and thoughtfulness that continued to surprise her. Even in the heat of their foreplay, in a room rife with sexual tension, he was taking the time to speak the truth of his love for her.

"Will you promise me that?" he insisted.

She struggled to find the right words to tell him how much he meant to her and how much she wanted him, but settled on, "Yes. I will, my love, I promise."

She smiled in an attempt to reassure him, her hand lightly grazing his bare arm. She paid particular attention to his muscled forearms and the light sprinkling of blonde hair as she traced the tendons and muscles out to the slender fingers of his skilled surgeon's hands.

To lighten the mood, she teased, "Maybe I won't call first." She pulled him close with his stethoscope. "I'll just show up in this next time." She slid the stethoscope from his neck and draped it around her own. "And that new pair of stilettos you bought for me."

He coughed in surprise, caught off guard by her forward behavior and cleared his throat with some difficulty at the thought of his beautiful, elegant wife showing up at the hospital wearing nothing but his medical instrument and her five-inch heels.

He gestured to the stethoscope around her neck. "My love, if you show up in that, I will be the one needing medical attention." He clutched his chest dramatically for emphasis.

She giggled making a mental note to surprise the hell out of him on his next overnight shift.

"I can assure you that there will most definitely be a next time," he continued. "Because I'm going to hold you to that promise. It's a date."

"We'll see," she replied coyly, tilting her head and toying with the stethoscope. "I'll have to check my calendar. I'm very busy and important, you know," Esme teased with a proper British accent.

_Well played, darling. _

Carlisle quirked a smile; she was playful tonight. Definitely a good sign. "Of course, my apologies, Mrs. Cullen," Carlisle conceded chivalrously in his authentic British accent and a deferential nod of his head.

"Perhaps you'll pencil me in then?" He tickled her playfully, which rewarded him with peals of laughter. A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. It had been a long time since he'd laughed, truly laughed anyway.

She tried to wriggle away from his tortuous fingers, shrieking playfully when he pulled her closer and intensified his mission against her sensitive ribcage.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

"This is tickle torture!" she yelped, kicking her feet as he restrained her firmly with one arm and teased her mercilessly with the other. "We didn't discuss this! No fair!" she gasped.

Breathless and laughing, he shifted above her, his fingers stilling against her skin as he slid into the cradle of her hips and supported his weight on his forearms. He kissed her shoulder softly and continued along her neck until he reached her lips. Slowly, patiently, he coaxed her lips open and slid his tongue along hers. He broke away long enough to whisper, "Don't think for a second you're getting off that easy Mrs. Cullen."

She grabbed his hips and pulled him tightly against her. She wriggled seductively against him, re-igniting his arousal and reminding him that they had unfinished business to attend to.

"Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head slowly with a half-smile. "Not so fast. I believe you came in with a headache and a fever." He laid the back of his hand against her forehead and brushed his knuckles along her cheek. "You're still warm." Even the briefest contact with her skin told Carlisle's trained hands that her temperature was off.

He took a sobering breath, organizing his thoughts as he sat up, and rubbed his hand over her bare leg reassuringly as he removed an item from the nightstand.

He held the thermometer up to her eye level. "Open for me?" he asked.

She pulled herself up against the pillows and crossed her arms, a sexy pout forming at her lips. "Is this really nec—"

He held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence, giving her a stern "no arguments" doctor look. She complied, letting him take control, feeling slightly ridiculous but enjoying the charade nonetheless.

"Good. And place this under your tongue." He heard her teeth click on the instrument as she closed her lips.

She studied his face as he unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the collar with his fingers, revealing the enticingly smooth skin of his chest. Even in shadow, he was ethereal and strikingly beautiful—not unlike some otherworldly deity.

Carlisle deserved to be revered like a god, she thought, if for nothing else than the sheer number of lives he'd saved. He was benevolent and forgiving, selfless to a fault. He'd earned the respect of those around him with actions that mirrored his words.

But there was something else…something that thrilled and excited her even more. He was a highly-skilled physician and a vampire—someone capable of giving _or_ taking a life in equal measures—a dangerous combination in any other man's hands. A current of sexual tension rippled down her spine as she wondered if he was even aware of his own raw power.

While he was waiting for the thermometer to register, he automatically reached for her wrist to feel her pulse, belatedly realizing how habitual the action was when examining his human patients.

His fingers lingered on her silent wrist, reluctant to release her. For a brief moment Carlisle flashed to what their human lives could have been like: the blush that would stain her skin that lovely shade of pink with the first brush of his lips, her pulse pounding beneath his fingers with excitement as he pulled her into the bedroom, their feverish love-making, sweat glistening on their fragile bodies of flesh and bone, the heat of her soft womanly body ripe with arousal, and her short staccato breaths as she climaxed and screamed his name.

He imagined his instinctual need to find his own climax, buried deep within her, and filling her warm, fertile body with his seed. What if they could—

The thermometer beeped, jolting him out of his daydream. He swallowed hard and drove the thought away, for now.

As he leaned over her, brushing her body with his, the action electrified them both, like an arc of static in the atmosphere before a storm. He slipped the device from her mouth and glanced down at a number that concerned him and yet would not have supported human life.

He murmured something inaudibly, a small frown creasing his forehead.

Esme raised a questioning eyebrow but he wasn't letting her in on the results.

His practiced fingers gently palpated the line beneath her jaw and the soft skin along her neck.

"Do you have any pain here?" he asked, pressing soft circles along the sides of her neck.

She shook her head no, unable to vocalize, focused entirely on enjoying the tantalizing feeling of his expert touch.

"And here?"

He had reached her collar bone, his fingertips lightly tracing the soft skin above her breasts.

"And how about here?"

Carlisle brushed the palm of his hand between her breasts and down her sternum, trailing lower still, until it rested on her flat abdomen. His fingers teased the hem of her gown that rested dangerously close to the source of her throbbing tension.

He slid her gown aside, gathering the fabric in his hand and brushed his lips against her bare skin. "Tell me where it hurts," he whispered. "Let me make it better." His lips pressed against her again as the tip of his tongue traced a slow circle over her delicate skin.

Esme jolted as his tongue made contact with her. She inhaled sharply, a humming noise emanating from deep within her throat.

Her arousal was palpable as Carlisle's fingers slid lower, teasing her bikini line. His fingers journeyed lower still, lightly grazing her swollen nub and feeling the moisture gathering there.

Esme's hips bucked against his touch, anxious for more.

He moved back up her body to her lips. He kissed her hard this time, his hunger evident as he pulled her lower lip between his teeth, nipping it roughly before plunging his tongue into her mouth.

Feeling the slight warmth of her fever against his skin, Carlisle pulled away with difficulty and rested his forehead against hers. Sitting back, he searched her eyes, feeling conflicted. "You should rest, love. You're not well."

"Then make me well," she countered, breathless. She traced her fingers over his strong jawline. "Please," she whispered. Her feverish eyes were soft and pleading.

"Esme," he reasoned. "You're my patient, first. Your well-being comes before my physical needs."

"Can't I be both your patient and your lover tonight?" She grasped the collar of his shirt with surprising strength to pull him closer. "Please," she whispered again, desperation tinging her voice. "I need you, Dr. Cullen." Her lips were against the hard line of his jaw and throat, insistent and demanding.

Carlisle felt his resolve rapidly disintegrating beneath her suggestive words and stimulating kisses. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to resist his lovely patient-cum-wife.

"I can't be entirely certain I'd be able to keep my professional oath," he said quietly. His eyes were dark and glittery.

"Then don't," Esme retorted softly. She placed another kiss along the firm skin of his throat and licked her tongue along his neck, stopping only to tug at his earlobe with her teeth as her fingers wound through the soft layers of his hair and tugged his head back. She pulled hard, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist.

He grunted softly at the unexpected force and the sting of pleasurable pain. A jagged breath left his lungs, resigned that he was about to do something against his better medical judgment. He'd forgotten just how powerful and persuasive his lovely wife was. It was a lapse that wouldn't happen again.

"Okay, okay," he relented, placing his palms up in defeat. "You win," he growled, his voice low and desirous. He quickly pinned the offending hand above her head. "On one condition…wait, no, make that two," he added, leaning over her and pressing his weight into her.

Esme's tousled hair was wild against the pillow as her tongue darted out to trace her lips in satisfaction. She smiled magnanimously. "Which are?"

"One, you promise to let me know _immediately_ if you feel any worse or if you want to stop for _any_ reason—" He held his breath, observing her carefully, waiting for some kind of objection, before he continued.

"As your physician, I reserve the right to call this off at any time if I have any concerns about your well-being, physically or otherwise."

Something flickered in her eyes but she smiled patiently. "And?"

"And, you'll rest later tonight—no arguing," he added, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Doctor's orders. Agreed?"

"That's three," she quipped, a mischievous light glinting in her eyes.

Carlisle caressed the sensitive skin of her ribcage with his thumb. He leaned in to whisper against her ear as he pressed his fingers into her skin. "Testing me so early? You might want to rethink that."

She struggled to sit up straight, the smirk vanishing from her face. "No. Absolutely not," she assured, as she smoothed her nightgown down. "I'm sure you know what's best, Dr. Cullen."

"That's more like it," he said, pleased that she was playing along. "I _do_ know what's best for you. Tonight, you will be under my care and my rules. You will do whatever I think is best for you. Do you understand?"

She nodded, her eyes excited, but reaching up to touch an unconscious hand to her forehead.

"Are you sure you feel up to this?" He stroked the hair back from her forehead with the pad of his thumb and searched her eyes for any signs of hesitation.

"Carlisle," she sighed, as she took his face in her hands. "I just don't want to feel anything for a while. I want to be distracted and not think about anything." She stroked his cheek, looking into his darkening eyes. "Maybe you do too."

She knew she'd hit her mark when a flicker of mutual understanding crossed his face, but his expression remained skeptical.

"I'm fine, really," she continued lightly, trying to find the right tone to convince him. "I just ache for you, Carlisle—I mean, Dr. Cullen." She corrected herself with an alluring smile, slipping back into their play.

Carlisle leaned forward and pulled her into his arms, pressing a warm, exploratory kiss to her lips.

"Wait!" she cried, pulling away, suddenly bolting upright. "What if I'm contagious? Should I stop kissing you?" Her fingers pressed against her lips as if they were suddenly dangerous.

"Easy, honey," Carlisle chuckled softly, encouraging her to lie back as he pressed a restraining hand to her shoulder.

"Let me worry about that. I seriously doubt that it is…and if it is, I'm quite sure it's worth the risk." Carlisle smirked confidently.

The fact that he hadn't exhibited any symptoms yet was hopeful but it didn't convince him that it wasn't contagious. After all, he hadn't spent any time in close proximity with her up until now. He was fairly certain, however, that it wasn't airborne like the flu. Whatever the mysterious affliction, it seemed to be vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Some of that could be attributed to the medication starting to take effect, he rationalized, but not all of it.

His scientific mind continued to churn through the evidence but he found frustratingly little to go on. His best guess was that she'd been infected directly somehow. He needed to investigate further but would at least warn the rest of the family before they went back out to hunt.

She relaxed back into the pillows, "Well…I..." Esme appraised him cautiously. "I guess I can't argue with the expert, huh?" A small grin spread across her face.

Carlisle shook his head, returning her smile. "Not tonight, sweetheart," he said, slipping into his most serious, dominant tone. "You'll do exactly as I say."

It was a promise and a threat.

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**Doctor's Orders will return in two weeks. Stay tuned for Chapter 4 (Rx for Pain) when things heat up for our couple and the Good Doctor wants to explore some darker fantasies. *Evil grin***


	4. Sneek Peek- Rx for Pain

**Chapter Title: Sneak Peek for Rx for Pain **

**A/N:** For all of you reading along, I'd thought I'd leave you a little teaser in my absence. :)

**Rating**: **Very M** – Not intended for readers under the age of 18.

Enjoy!

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_"Not tonight, sweetheart," he'd said in his dominant tone. "You'll do exactly as I say."_

Esme shivered, recalling Carlisle's words.

He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear, startling her. "Remember that you're under my care tonight and I'll decide what's best for you."

"Now, what should your doctor prescribe to make you feel better?" His fingers teased the lacy edge of her panties with his fingertips. "I could prescribe some _natural_ painkillers…" His suggestion hung lustily in the air as his lips brushed over her ear again.

A tremor rippled through her body as the tickling sensation reverberated throughout her nerve endings. She purred enthusiastically, running her fingers through his hair. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"Mm-hmm," he confirmed, nuzzling her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as his breath once again tickled her sensitive skin and his warm tongue traced the ridge of her ear.

"Perhaps I should I treat this condition first?" He reached down to skim the tips of his fingers from the inside of her knee up the length of her inner thigh, and slipped them just under the edge of her panties, deliberately skirting the center of her aching need.

She groaned in frustration through clenched teeth, feeling both aroused and deprived at the same time.

Carlisle was enjoying a moment of smug satisfaction when she clutched his thigh in a punishing grip and whispered huskily, "I think it's time you told me your deepest, darkest fantasies Dr. Cullen."


	5. Rx for Pain

**Chapter Title: Rx for Pain **

**A/N:** Aaand we're back! Okay, on with the sexy times you've all been patiently waiting for.

**Rating**:** MA** - Not intended for readers under the age of 18.

**Content Warning**: Dominant!Carlisle ahead (or Dr. Dom as he likes to be called.)

This chapter contains language, dominance, submission and spanking (Ruby, this chapter is for you.)

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program…

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_"Not tonight, sweetheart," he'd said in his dominant tone. "You'll do exactly as I say."_

Esme shivered, recalling Carlisle's words.

He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear, startling her. "Now, what should your doctor prescribe to make you feel better?" His fingers teased the lacy edge of her panties with his fingertips. "I could prescribe some _natural_ painkillers…" His suggestion hung lustily in the air as his lips brushed over her ear again.

A tremor rippled through her body as the tickling sensation reverberated throughout her nerve endings. She purred enthusiastically, running her fingers through his hair. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"Mm-hmm," he confirmed, nuzzling her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and wiggled her toes at the delicious sensation of his warm tongue tracing the outer ridge of her ear.

"Perhaps I should I treat this condition first?" He reached down to skim the tips of his fingers from the inside of her knee up the length of her inner thigh and slipped them just under the edge of her panties, deliberately skirting the center of her aching need.

She groaned her frustration through clenched teeth, feeling both aroused and deprived at the same time.

Carlisle was enjoying a moment of smug satisfaction when she clutched his thigh in a punishing grip and whispered huskily, "I think it's time you told me your deepest, darkest fantasies Dr. Cullen."

Carlisle gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing in surprise. Esme had been unusually forward tonight, but now she wanted to act on _his _fantasies? If he thought he knew her well because of their decades together, he was sadly mistaken. She continued to surprise him in new and unique ways.

He swallowed again, working to maintain a placid expression while willing his voice to remain stern. "You want dark fantasies? I can do that." He slid the stethoscope slowly from her neck and cradled her head with his other hand. "But you'd better be careful what you wish for." His eyes glittered darkly in the dim light.

"And what if I don't want be careful tonight?" She returned his earlier teasing by grazing her nails slowly along his thigh, skimming but never touching the growing erection straining against his slacks. "What makes you burn with desire, Carlisle? Tell me."

Carlisle attempted to clear his throat that was suddenly constricted with a need nearly as strong as his searing thirst. It was then that he realized neither had hunted recently and their instinctive drive would only serve to heighten their most base, animalistic, sexual impulses.

Their unmet physical needs combined with the intense nature of their sexual exploits had the potential to push them both to the physical and emotional brink. As her doctor, her husband, and her Dom, it was his responsibility to monitor her carefully and act accordingly to ensure that she had a safe and pleasurable experience.

He grabbed her by the wrist, stilling her tortuous explorations and brushed his thumb softly across her skin. He leaned over her, letting the weight of his body press into hers. "Are you asking me to control you?"

She wriggled her wrist, attempting to break free from his iron grasp.

"Is that what you want? Hmm?" He brushed his lips against the smooth skin of her cheek and tightened his grasp around her wrist. "Because that is certainly something I can do."

"If that's your fantasy," she murmured softly.

"I think you know it is." He slid over her, flexing his hand around her breast and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "The question is, how far do you want to go this time?"

"I liked what we tried last time," she whispered, sounding suddenly shy.

"Ah!" Esme squeaked, as his fingers pinched her hardened, erect nipple. "And…and…what you were doing tonight—that whole doctor-knows-best-control-thing?"

Carlisle's eyes searched hers carefully. "Are you saying you want to experiment with dominance and submission…but with me acting as your physician?"

She bit her lip and smiled hopefully. "I'm still your patient, right?"

"Until I determine you're well enough to be released, yes," he said in his most medically professional voice, playing along for her benefit.

"Then yes, that's exactly what I want." She stared pointedly down at his crotch with a wicked smile. "And it looks like that might be what you want too."

Carlisle's largely ignored erection suddenly twitched in response.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said with a grin.

She rewarded his enthusiasm by cupping her palm over the bulge in his trousers and jerking up in a quick upward squeeze. Carlisle's eyes snapped shut and he hissed an oath. He swallowed hard, a low strangled moan coming from deep in his throat.

_Good God, he loved this woman. _

"That's a _hell yes_," he huffed, his face contorting into a mask of ecstasy and agony as her hand gave him an extra squeeze for good behavior.

Slowly regaining his composure, he plucked her hand from his pants and restrained it by her side. "I need to be sure," he said softly. "You do want this, right? As your Dominant, I will be testing your limits." His gaze burned into hers, searching for any signs of hesitation. "This is the last time I'm going to ask you."

"I want this," she whispered. "More than you know."

Esme had done some studying of her own, and from what she'd discovered, the beauty of the dominant and submissive relationship existed in the exchange of power, not simply in relinquishing power. Both she and Carlisle understood that when a submissive surrendered, it was a gift, not a right.

Trust with one's partner was essential in this type of relationship and she trusted Carlisle more than anyone else in the world. She wanted to explore that exchange of power with someone like Carlisle…someone who would be a caring, responsible, dominant man—one who got off on that control—but someone who was also heroic and cherished the woman who gave it to him.

"Okay," Carlisle said softly. He studied her for a moment more and then nodded, seeming satisfied. "Do you remember what we discussed about limits?"

"Like hard and soft limits?"

"Exactly," he praised.

She beamed at his attention.

"Do you remember your soft limits?"

"Like spanking?"

"Yes, like spanking and restraints...and the other things we talked about," he elaborated.

She thought for a minute, smiled and nodded.

"Good." He nodded again. "And your hard limits—the ones you absolutely don't want to negotiate? I want us both to be absolutely clear before we begin tonight."

She considered his question as a look of distaste scrunched the features of her face. "How could I forget some of those?"

Carlisle repressed a chuckle and cleared his throat to mask his amusement, returning to his severe expression.

"Do you remember your safe words?"

"Yes." She thought back and smiled. They had tossed around a few words like "purple" for her favorite color, "mercy" which had made them both laugh, and even "Volturi", which had had the desired effect of being an instant mood killer, but nothing had seemed quite right. They had finally settled on the stoplight method of safe words that many BDSM players used—green, yellow, and red.

"Say them out loud," he instructed.

She repeated her three words in sequence. They were not commonly used words or words that could be confused or misunderstood should the necessity to use them arise.

"And when do you use them?"

She recited their agreement—the first meant she was okay and she wanted to continue, the second was to slow down and discuss the issue, and the third and final safe word was her "Code Red". It would be used only as a last resort when she wanted the scene to come to an immediate end, no questions asked.

"Good girl," he commended.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly, brushing his knuckles softly along her cheek.

"More than anything," she whispered reverently.

Something deep within him swelled with male pride. He needed no further encouragement. She was consenting to—hell, _encouraging_ him—to explore their shared fantasies of dominance and submission.

He thought back to a blog they'd read together one night when they'd been discussing fantasies. It had been one of their favorites, offering advice to couples both experienced and novice. The erotic images of women in submissive poses, dressed only in garters, corsets, and heels haunted him. He recalled the words exactly, silently appreciating his photographic memory:

_"One of the greatest things a Dom can do for his sub is to silence her mind. _

_To allow her to let go of the world and simply be. _

_Be touched. _

_Be caressed. _

_Be cared for. _

_Be taken. _

_Be loved."_

He mulled that over for a minute wondering if there was any truth to the statement. Maybe, Carlisle reasoned, Esme and the author were right.

Maybe, they both needed to "let go of the world" and escape for a while.

"Remember, as my patient," he said, "you will do everything I ask of you without question."

She nodded.

"I want a verbal consent."

"Yes, Dr. Cullen."

"Good girl." He rewarded her with a chaste kiss to her forehead.

During the few times they'd dabbled in D/s play, he'd been surprised to discover that he craved control in the bedroom. It had shocked and perplexed him, because after all, his job required his calm, controlled response to chaos on a daily basis. Lives depended on it. Patients and staff alike looked to him to set the tone for the entire hospital. Everyone, it seemed, was counting on him to be in control, all the time.

This thing with Esme, whatever it was, was different though. He was _choosing_ to control, not being required to. It wasn't issuing orders in triage or subverting his desire for blood. He lusted for something much different—the intoxication of her surrender. He was hard pressed to describe the rush he felt when he held her complete trust—and her willingness to do anything he asked—in his hands. He hungered for it like the hit of a narcotic drug, like the first potent, sweet rush of heroin pulsing through an addict's veins.

Bloodlust felt similar in the sense that it flared quickly and was difficult to contain. It was highly combustible, in much in the same way fire consumed every ounce of oxygen in a room right before it exploded. His desire to sexually dominate was similarly explosive. It was lust and hunger and animalistic for sure, but that's where the similarities ended. This was something much darker and less tangible, tied up and complicated, buried deep within the core of his sexual need.

One hit of this drug triggered a compulsion within him, one that was sharper, stronger, and more intense than any of the worst days of his searing thirst. He liked controlling her. He liked her helplessness and total trust. He liked how turned on she got and how masculine he felt. He liked being in charge and taking whatever he wanted. But he _loved_ watching her come undone in his hands.

His own tightly coiled tension ignited a spark, low in his groin, fanning the flame into something deeper, darker, more fiery and primal. He had never gotten so hard so fast, in all his years as a mortal or as a vampire.

Gone was the teasing, playful mood from before. He wanted her badly. He _needed_ her, needed this. He needed to possess her emotionally, physically, in whatever dark and deviant way his mind conjured up. He slipped into his role like he was pulling on a worn, comfortable jacket.

"You haven't answered me," he said quietly with an edge. "I asked how you wanted your doctor to treat you."

_How easily it fits. _

He trailed his fingers lightly down her arm, watching with pleasure as she shuddered.

She opened her mouth to speak but Carlisle interrupted her before she could form the words. "Think carefully," he advised, softly rubbing the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. "I hold your pleasure and your punishment in my hands."

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and nodded.

_Jesus, when had she learned to look at him like that?_

He swallowed hard.

He jerked his shirt free from his pants impatiently. Wasting no time, he grabbed her hips and suddenly straddled her. He eased the slippery fabric up her body as he thrust his hand down between her legs and cupped his palm roughly against her. "This is mine. Are we clear?"

She nodded mutely and swallowed convulsively.

His hands and lips roamed her skin, squeezing, stroking, and caressing from her rib cage down to her thigh, leaving a trail of punishing bruises on her pale skin.

Esme inhaled sharply at the complex sensations she was experiencing. Even as her body reflexively jerked away from the unexpected strength of her lover's hand and her brain processed the slow burn still lingering on her skin, her body yearned for more.

"Would you like me to decide for you?" There was a hint of impatience in his voice. She detected that decidedly dominant tone from before. Goosebumps pebbled her skin.

She'd been so distracted, she'd forgotten to answer. She shuddered, biting her lip, as he pressed his nose and lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"I want you to m-make love to me," she stammered. "I want your lips, your hands…" She knew what he wanted to hear but found it difficult to make the vulgar words sound like hers.

"Mmm…what else?" Carlisle moaned, feeling a surge of arousal between his legs at the thought of taking her. He slowly sucked his index finger into his mouth, generously wetting it, and traced warm, wet circles over her sensitive nipples. He savored the emotional interplay on her face as her body responded to him physically and her nipples hardened beneath his touch and the cool air.

Esme squeezed her eyes shut in ecstasy and groaned loudly. She was in unfamiliar territory. Where she had felt confident in teasing and challenging Carlisle earlier in the evening, she suddenly felt much less sure in this new dynamic.

_How much did she want?_

Their "vanilla" love making mores no longer applied. Carlisle's dominant demeanor was exciting...but it was also different and slightly intimidating.

He sat back on his bare feet, gripping the crisscrossed black ribbons of the corset until they were taut. Her delicate flesh strained against the bindings, threatening to spill out. He leaned forward, flicking her nipple through the fabric with the tip of his tongue and nipping it with his teeth before slowly sucking it into the warmth of his mouth, jolting her senses with tantalizing friction, wet heat and something that was more achingly pleasurable than painful.

"Nnnghhh!" she was reduced to nonsensical noises now.

"What else, Esme?" Carlisle's voice was ragged as he kissed along her collar bone, his perfect control evaporating. His primitive need was reaching critical mass and he didn't know how much longer he would be able to restrain himself.

"I want you, Carlisle." She managed to get the words out in short gasps of air. "All of you. Inside me."

"I want to hear you to say it," he whispered into her ear. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you—every detail." He punctuated each word slowly as he slid his hand down, inch by inch, deliberately feathering his fingers over the most sensitive part of her. "_Beg _me to fuck you," he breathed against her ear.

Esme gulped, finding herself aroused by the dirty words coming from her husband's proper lips. Her head arched back against the pillow, her lips moving but soundless. She wanted him to kiss her, touch her and possess her, with every nerve, every fiber, every molecule of her being, but she knew that when he did, there was a very good chance she would be lost in sensory overload.

Dipping his head once more, he wrapped his lips around the left nipple first, pulling it roughly against its restraints then drawing it into his warm mouth, soothing it, and swirling his tongue around it, before nipping it hard with his teeth and lavishing the same attention on the right.

Esme cried out, thrusting her fingers through the soft layers of his silky hair, arching up into his mouth and holding him captive against her ultra-sensitive flesh as he continued nipping, sucking, and swirling.

"That's it, sweetheart. Tell me what you need," he groaned, between kisses.

"Please," she begged. She was desperate to have him touch every inch of her body. She attempted to show him by taking his hand and placing it over her breast provocatively, encouraging him to squeeze it roughly before guiding it slowly down to the area aching for his touch.

"Please what? You know what you need to do. Don't make me ask you again." His eyes studied her with determined resolve.

"I can't—" She struggled to formulate the words in this new dynamic.

He didn't wait for her to finish before he abruptly turned her over his knee, jerking her panties roughly down to her knees, and sending a stinging slap to her backside. His hand delivered just enough force to warm her skin.

"Ow!" She yelped in surprise, attempting to squirm away from the unexpected assault.

"You haven't answered me yet." His voice breathed against her ear as he teased small circles over her stinging skin. The blush of her skin developed his hand print like an image in a photographer's negative coming into focus.

She wriggled against him but he held her still with his forearm against her lower back. He brought his hand down again. Rather than aiming his force directly down, his hand connected with her cheek in an upward motion that glanced off the side, giving it more of a sting. She whimpered softly as she wriggled against him again, either in an attempt to escape his hand or to relieve her growing arousal.

He swept her hair aside and yanked the strap of her gown down her shoulder, kissing her softly there. He inhaled deeply, taking in the soft, floral notes of her perfume.

"What do you want me to _do_ to you Esme? Hmm? Do you want me to take you from behind like this?" His silky voice was low and dangerous as Carlisle pooled the inky fabric above her naked hips with one hand and traced circles over the dimples in the small of her back with the other.

His fingers slid lower, down the curve of her spine and disappearing between the cleft of her ass, making small teasing circles at the sensitive opening there.

Esme's sharp gasp was muffled as her head fell forward against the duvet and her hips bucked against Carlisle's thigh at this new sensation. His cool hand soothed her inflamed skin as it circled her cheek but it was igniting something entirely different as his fingertips dipped down between them teasing her other entrance once more.

"Should I spank you again?" he mused aloud. He grazed the smooth skin of her ass with his palm and fingers.

_Did she want him to spank her again?_

Esme wasn't sure how to respond. She was sure, however, that she'd displeased him by not responding soon enough.

Before she could formulate the words, he quickly sent another stinging slap to each cheek.

Her mind may have been confused but her body was clearly responding. The tone of his voice, his steely demeanor, and the sting of his hand were all converging into one sensual trance. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her thighs together in an attempt to resist the urge to grind her bare mound against the texture of his fully clothed thigh.

A small, subdued voice came from the head hanging over his lap. "Carlisle, what are—?"

"That's _Doctor Cullen _or _Sir_," he reprimanded. "And you will speak only when spoken to. Are we clear?" He leaned over her back and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back to meet his gaze. "Is this what you wanted my naughty, sweet girl? Your doctor examining every inch of you and fucking you until you beg him to stop?"

Esme was momentarily stunned. She'd seen hints of dominance in their play before but never to this extent. She felt another trickle of moisture run down her leg and dampen the pants covering his thigh.

"Yes...s-sir?" she said tentatively.

"Is that a question?"

"Are you sure—"

He abruptly slid her off his thigh and grabbed her roughly by the hair.

"Stand," he ordered, pulling her up forcefully.

She scrambled to her feet, balancing the best she could with his hand directing her movements. He released her and stalked to the back of the room. She stood next to the bed, her eyes darting back furtively while she waited for the next command. How could she have forgotten that she wasn't supposed to question him?

"Link your hands in front of you. Eyes forward," he commanded gently.

She complied quickly, her eyes snapping straight ahead.

Carlisle guided her to a chair he'd pulled into the middle of the room.

He stood behind her, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his chest against her back and the whisper of his breath at the nape of her neck.

He dragged a finger slowly down her spine.

"Bend over and slide your panties down."

Esme moved to reach for her underclothes that were still somewhere around her knees.

"_All the way down_," Carlisle said against her ear. Only his refined timbre could manage to sound so seductive and threatening in the same breath. He pressed her body forward with a palm to the small of her back so that she was splayed face down over the back of a plush armchair.

"Open yourself and show me everything..." he demanded quietly from somewhere behind her. His foot nudged her feet hip width apart.

She jumped at the unmistakable _thwack_ of something connecting solidly with firm flesh. She could only assume it was some kind of pleasure-pain inducing implement against Carlisle's palm.

She dared another glance behind her. Another loud crack startled her to attention when Carlisle struck the edge of the chair near her torso.

"...And don't _ever_ question me again."

* * *

**Whewww. Everyone still with me? How are we feeling about Dominant!Carlisle? Nervous? Excited? Just want him for yourself? You should...it's about to get much hotter in here!**


	6. Subspace

**Chapter Title: Subspace **

**Chapter 6  
**

**A/N:** Thank you to **A Romantic Enquiry, Just4Me, Cris.P.C. and Rubyblue100** for talking Sin down off the ledge and to **Catharticone** for her keen insight. Dr. Dom and Compassionate Carlisle called an emergency summit to reach some kind of understanding regarding limits for Esme. How naughty you ask? Sin had to breathe into a paper bag.

**Rating**:** MA/NC-17**: Mature themes of sexuality and BDSM. Not intended for readers under the age of 18. Turn back now my young friends. Consider yourself warned.

**Content** WARNING! Domisle and dark fantasies ahead…

* * *

"I know what you need," Carlisle murmured. "And it isn't what you think you need."

He stroked her hair slowly.

"It is to do what pleases me, when I tell you to do it. It is not for you to question my authority. Are we clear?"

Esme nodded quickly.

Although he didn't show any outward signs of hesitation, Carlisle predicted that he was going to have difficulty punishing Esme. Logically he knew it was all a part of "the scene" that they were both willingly participating in, but the thought of intentionally inflicting pain was not something he was looking forward to.

Before proceeding, Carlisle carefully considered Esme's well-being. It had been nearly twelve hours since she'd first reported feeling sick. The symptoms of her mysterious illness had subsided, if not resolved completely. After he'd thoroughly examined her and monitored her throughout the night, he now felt confident that she was well enough for them to proceed with some of their more pleasurable activities.

Regarding her punishment, his dominant style with Esme leaned more toward what was referred to as a "gentle Dom". Like everything in his life, especially anything involving Esme, Carlisle took his responsibility seriously. He knew that if a lesson needed to be taught, a Dom needed to use his brain while doing it. Anger, irresponsibility, and impulsivity had no place in this type of relationship, especially not while physically "engaged".

Esme couldn't see him but she could feel the nearness of him as his movements stirred the air around her.

Her panties were bound around her ankles in a tangled mess. She was bent forward over a chair in their room, head down, legs spread, and completely exposed to him. She risked a peek behind her as his feet moved out of view.

"Eyes down!" Carlisle snapped. "Drop your head in submission and present your ass to me."

"I'm sorry—" Esme yelped as his hand connected sharply with her ass. She dropped her head sharply, feeling chagrined at having displeased him. She shifted her hips slightly to tilt her ass forward and wiggled further over the chair to accommodate his command.

"Good girl."

Carlisle stalked toward her, fingers brushing along the back of her neck and over the nubs of her spine as he moved down the length of her legs and to the panties gathered at her feet.

He crouched behind her, brushing his lips across the satiny skin of her calves as he balanced her weight and slipped the wisp of black lace first from one foot and then off the other. Esme shuddered at his touch and concentrated on keeping her legs steady.

He moved slowly back up her legs and over her body, retracing his steps to her shoulders. Grasping her arm, he turned her roughly to face him and pushed her back against the chair with his hips. He cupped the back of her neck, sliding his thumb up and down the delicate side of her windpipe as his other hand fingered the straps of her gown.

"I want you naked in front of me," he demanded, slowly gathering the silky fabric that protected her remaining modesty in one hand.

With one sharp jerk of his arm, he ripped it from her body and flung it aside where it pooled into an inky-black puddle near the bed.

Esme inhaled audibly at the sudden force, instinctively crossing her arms over her breasts. She shifted self-consciously, feeling completely exposed before him from head to toe. She'd never felt so vulnerable.

"Let me see you," he commanded gently, pulling her arms to her side. He pressed her shoulders back, revealing her chest.

"You're much too beautiful to hide." His hand cupped her face and traveled down, grazing slowly over her shoulder and finally over the swell of her hip.

"Face the chair," he instructed, taking her by the arm and turning her.

Carlisle went to his dresser and retrieved some supplies. He lined them on the bed. When he returned, he circled her like a predator sizing up his prey while he tapped a menacing beat against his thigh.

Esme craned her neck, listening intently to the unique sounds, trying to determine what he had in store for her. Whatever was in his hand seemed to have what she could only describe as a solid thumping sound…like a spatula…or a riding crop? But then she detected a softer whooshing noise…a whip? Or a flogger, maybe? Clearly Carlisle had been researching more than medicine in the late hours of the evening and he was now testing which one to use.

"Stand with your legs hip width apart," he instructed. "I want your hands braced on the cushion in front of you."

His dictating tone should have disturbed her, but it only served to heighten her arousal as she wondered what he would do to her.

She complied, feeling more nervous as she shifted slightly, her thighs parting.

"Stunning," he murmured to himself, dragging something soft that tickled along the sensitive sides of her ribcage.

He stopped in front of her and crouched down to her eye level. His fingers grasped her chin and tilted it up to meet his eyes.

"Esme, you know what the rules are and you broke them. I didn't want to introduce you to this so soon, but you leave me no choice."

He stroked the hair from her forehead.

"Considering that this is your first time, I don't want to overwhelm you. I will introduce you to what I'm using and explain why I'm using it."

"Nod if you understand me."

Esme nodded quickly.

He held the implement in his hand up to her eye level. "This is a deerskin flogger."

Esme stared at the nearly thirty-inch implement with a combined sense of fear, trepidation and curiosity. The red and black flogger had a braided handle with long red and black falls that reminded her of leather tassels.

As far as floggers went, it seemed innocuous enough and looked less menacing than some. But then again, she was not an expert…and looks could be deceiving, she thought wryly.

She silently thanked Carlisle for being the considerate Dom he was and for introducing her to punishment with something that appeared to be designed for beginners. She'd be sure to make it up to him later.

"It's designed to be very gentle," Carlisle explained as if reading her thoughts. "Since this is your first exposure to punishment and flogging, I will withhold any serious pain."

"Don't make me regret it," he said calmly. "I guarantee I won't be as generous next time."

"I want your verbal confirmation that you understand our agreement."

"Yes Sir," Esme said quietly, her eyes darting as he moved around her.

He dragged the soft suede-like tails over her skin.

Esme could only describe it as a feathery sensation that tickled her skin and raised a swath of goose bumps in its wake.

"I will start out slowly at first," Carlisle continued, "to introduce you to the sensation and to warm up your back before gradually increasing the force."

Carlisle's intention was to ease her into it as softly and sensually as possible. He wanted her first experience to be the right balance of sensual and hardcore. With that in mind, he'd purposefully selected the most supple, gentle flogger he could find. It was designed to deliver more of a highly pleasurable "thuddy" sensation with little to no sting. But as with all implements, it all depended on the skill of the person delivering it.

He'd start with easy strokes of the flogger over her back and ass, making sure to occasionally connect with the sensitive area between her legs to stimulate her, as well as brushing over them with the tips of the tails to arouse her. This method would give her body a head start so that her endorphins would be released at the right time to help her handle any pain.

Esme chewed her lip nervously. Carlisle had never physically disciplined anyone, including her. The anticipation was eating at her.

He moved out of her line of sight and she felt him place a firm hand on the small of her back to prevent her from moving. Her body unconsciously stiffened with apprehension beneath him. He teased the soft falls of the flogger against her skin again with a small _thwap_, _thwap_, _thwap_ to prepare her for what was coming. Esme felt the tails of the flogger dance over her back as he trailed them over her ass, down her legs, and to her feet.

His wrist moved in small, precise movements, covering her back and ass in thin, red lines. He then moved back over her body with light flicks of his wrist to create a thuddy movement that would acclimate her body to the sensation. His swings alternated from a soft, sensual caress to a fairly heavy "thump".

When he was satisfied that she was properly prepared for the session, he moved behind her and returned his hand to her lower back.

A whooshing sound made her jerk. The flogger sliced through the air and connected with her right buttock.

"Ahhh!" Esme groaned loudly as her body startled in surprise. The sting was so pleasurable she was already on the brink.

A second lash landed on her upper cheek. Her skin was on fire. Esme suddenly understood the need for Carlisle's hand on the small of her back as she writhed beneath him.

The prickle from the third and fourth swats left more of a dull ache…but still pleasurable.

The fifth layered color on a previously covered spot. "Ow! Umm—" Esme contemplated using a safe word, but bit her lip to keep from shouting out.

Carlisle lightened up imperceptibly, still placing a well-aimed swat here and there to the backs of her thighs. "What color, Esme?"

"I'm n-n-ot sure," Esme stammered.

Carlisle immediately stopped and crouched in front of her. He cradled her face in his hands with darkly concerned eyes.

"Tell me what you're feeling Esme."

"It's starting to really sting in places, but…it was the sharp sensation that startled me more than anything," she admitted honestly.

"Punishments are designed to hurt," he explained softly. "Believe me, it's not something I wanted to introduce you to so soon."

"Are you comfortable continuing?" he asked. "I want you to fully experience this, but I will only proceed with your consent." His fingers brushed lightly over her stinging skin.

Esme pressed her lips together in contemplation. She wanted to please him and honestly, it really didn't hurt that much. Besides, the curious part of her wanted to test that razor's edge between pleasure and pain.

She realized she wanted Carlisle to do so much more to her.

"I want you to continue, Sir," she whispered.

He nodded once and brushed his lips softly over hers.

He returned to her back and administered several more light blows. Each blow drove her hips harder into the back of the chair. She cried out at the sting and arched up against his hand as he administered the last few, lash after lash landing on her sensitized skin. Tears sprung to her eyes and she bit her lip to stifle a gasp. She pressed the wetness of her thighs together, seeking friction. Unbelievably, she was more aroused than she ever thought possible.

When he was finished, he tossed the flogger to the side. His hands gently examined the red marks covering her skin before softly kissing it.

"You won't question my authority again, will you?" he murmured against her skin.

"N-no," she replied tremulously.

"Ah, ah," he chastised. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"No…_Dr. Cullen_," she quickly corrected.

"Better…for now" he said. He turned her into his chest and grabbed her roughly by the arms. His hips pinned her against the back of the chair as he crushed his lips briefly to hers.

"On the bed," he directed. "Get on all fours."

He turned her in the direction of the bed. She moved slowly toward it, feeling a slight stinging discomfort radiating from her backside. The heat from her ass felt good in an odd sort of way.

He climbed on the bed behind her and pushed her forward with a hand on the small of her back, pressing her face forward into the duvet.

Carlisle slowly explored her. One hand pressed against her lower back as the other slid around the front of her body and between her legs. He stroked her folds slowly as his thumb grazed her swollen nub.

He pressed his hips against her, earning a hiss from Esme as the sting of fabric chafed her reddened skin. Moving his hand from her back, he leaned down and worked his thumb into her mouth. A loud gasp burst from his lips as she drew it slowly in. The fingers of his other hand continued working her slick folds, as he slowly pressed his aching erection into her with more urgency.

When she leaned back to pull him more tightly against her, Carlisle groaned loudly. He withdrew his fingers and ripped his shirt off impatiently, sending the remaining buttons flying across the room like small plastic missiles.

The remnants of his shirt floated to the floor by the bed leaving him bare-chested in nothing but his black slacks and a designer belt. He slowly released the buckle of his belt, letting the clink of metal tease her imagination as he rocked back on his bare feet. The muscles in his chest and stomach rippled with flexion.

He slid his half-naked body against her. Esme groaned loudly as the trail of hair below his naval rasped her skin and the metal buckle thumped into her as he began grinding against her sensitive backside. He wrapped his arm around her from the opposite side and pulled her upright against him, cupping her breast with his right hand.

He pinned her left arm behind her back with one hand. In this position, she was balancing almost entirely on her knees with only Carlisle's body for support.

He slid the other hand from her breast up the delicate column of her throat and eased her head back. He was careful to put his hand above the hyoid bone, just under the jaw. He pressed lightly upwards.

It would give her the feeling of vulnerability associated with restricted breath and allow her to enjoy the power dynamic involved, without having to do anything dangerous.

It would also increase the intensity of her orgasm. Most people naturally held their breath or breathed faster in order to climax…this position would simply intensify that sensation.

It would test her absolute faith and trust in Carlisle.

As Esme's chest heaved in anticipation, Carlisle tightened his grip imperceptibly. She was unable to move in this position and he heard a momentary whimper of panic as he exerted his control and tilted her head back further.

"Don't fight it," his voice whispered into her ear as his fingers squeezed and caressed her throat in time with his hips moving against her.

"Give in to me."

The corded muscles of her neck strained against his grip, resisting instinctively. He felt her swallow convulsively, working to contain her panic. "Shh...easy," he soothed, stroking the soft, exposed underside of her jaw.

He had held many lives in his hands before, including hers. Medically he knew that her body no longer required breath or oxygen, but in their play, instinctive behaviors often took over, making Esme's submissive experience something very similar to that of a human. Whether it was survival instincts deeply ingrained at cellular level or something purely psychological, he didn't know.

He did know that even the perceived intentional restriction of oxygen to her brain would cause a spike in her sexual arousal. He wanted Esme to learn to trust his touch above everything else—even above her own body's flight or fight response.

"Trust me," he whispered against her ear. "Your doctor knows exactly how much your body can take."

With measured confidence, he inched her head back and squeezed gently as he massaged the front of her throat.

She whimpered softly.

"You're doing so well sweetheart," he whispered soothingly rubbing his thumb along the side of her neck as he held her quivering body steady.

Esme swallowed rapidly trying to control her panic.

His opposite hand dropped down to thighs and rubbed against her. She began to feel lightheaded, almost giddy between the fingers that were teasing her and the ones that controlled her breath.

Her hand fluttered up to his grasp on her neck and down to his thighs, alternately pushing him back and clutching him closer.

Carlisle tilted his head to watch her carefully, monitoring every ripple and twitch of her muscles and the range of emotions on her face.

"That's it sweetheart," he coaxed. After a few minutes of resistance, her muscles began to relax and she began sinking against him.

"C-c-arlisle?" she rasped between shallow breaths for air.

"What color baby? Tell me," he urged.

"Y-y-ell—"

Carlisle immediately released his grip.

"No! I'm sorry, uh, green…green…Dr. Cullen." Esme leaned forward into his grasp, seeking the intensity from minutes before.

"I need you to be sure, sweetheart, Carlisle growled.

"Green," she said again with more confidence as the pressure of his grasp returned.

"Good girl. What do you need baby?" he pressed, continuing to grind against her.

"I need you, now."

Carlisle thrust his hardening erection against her backside and slipped a hand between her legs, stroking her soft folds until she was panting. She leaned forward into the hand that claimed her throat wanting more as Carlisle's fingers expertly circled her sensitive nub in small rhythmic circles. Psychedelic patterns danced behind closed lids as she hovered near release.

"Come for me," Carlisle murmured. His fingers slipped inside of her while his thumb pinned and relentlessly circled its target.

Esme's rapid panting suddenly stilled and a strangled moan emerged from her throat as she convulsed and shuddered, a prisoner in the iron arms of the man she loved.

Carlisle held her as tremors shook her body in a series of aftershocks. When she fell limp in his arms, he released her slowly and lowered her gently to the bed, allowing her to recover.

When she came down, he was watching her carefully.

"Hi," he whispered with a tentative smile.

"Hi," Esme responded, blinking a few times with a dazed smile.

"How are you feeling? Anything hurt?" He traced a finger gently over the fading red hand print on her neck.

She reached a hand to her throat. "Nothing hurts. I feel strangely...wonderful."

She rolled over to her back, wincing as she did.

"How's your backside sweetheart?" Carlisle asked concerned, looking down at her.

"Ask me tomorrow," she said with a grin.

"Let me take care of you. Was I too rough?"

"No, no, it was…amazing. I never thought an experience like that was possible. It was so intense. I was completely transported somewhere else," she said, her thoughts drifting far away.

"Roll onto your stomach," he said softly, guiding her with a hand on her hip.

He grabbed some cream from the nightstand and gently administered it to the stinging coming from her ass as she spoke.

"I've never had anyone control me so completely." She rested her chin on folded arms as he massaged the soothing cream into her sensitive skin, flinching here and there as his skilled fingers grazed a particularly sensitive spot.

"The feeling of utter helplessness was terrifying at first and the unqualified trust I had to give you… I mean I know I don't need air to survive anymore, but my brain doesn't seem to know that. I had to let go of that instinct to fight for my life. I thought it would be so easy because I do trust you, with my life…with everything…" Her words trailed off.

Carlisle replaced the lid on the cream and set it aside as he helped Esme roll slowly onto her back.

"But it wasn't easy, was it?" Carlisle's voice was soft. His eyes studied her intently as she spoke.

She paused, struggling to find a way to describe her experience. "No, it wasn't. My brain knew that no harm would come to me, especially by your hands, but my body went into survival mode. I guess that kind of trust isn't logical; it's purely instinctual. It wasn't about how much I love you or how I trust you every day of my life…it was just about surviving in the moment. When my body finally surrendered to you, I felt like I was giddy, detached and floating…it was like flying…like an out-of-body experience."

"I've never experienced anything like it," she said staring past his shoulder at a painting on the wall. "I feel like I've had an adrenaline rush but I'm completely relaxed and this is weird…I feel sleepy…more like…exhausted." She yawned softly.

"It's called subspace," Carlisle explained as he stroked her hair. It's a physiological process that can happen during a scene like ours. Intense experiences of both pain and pleasure can trigger a release of epinephrine and endorphins."

Esme's eyes returned to him and stared up at him sleepily, fighting a wave of pleasant exhaustion as she tried to stay focused on what he was saying. Carlisle pulled her close.

"The increase of hormones and chemicals produces a sort of trance-like state, where the submissive feels what you experienced—something like an out-of-body experience, where you feel like you're floating, detached from reality. As the high comes down, the submissive can feel a deep exhaustion."

Carlisle tucked his chin to peer down at Esme's face. Although he knew she wasn't sleeping, her eyes were closed and she appeared deeply relaxed. Carlisle chuckled. His full scientific explanation could wait.

"Lay here with me," Carlisle whispered. "You need to rest." Carlisle turned onto his side and grabbed a pillow, wedging it beneath his head and shoulder. Lounging comfortably, he pulled Esme's back to his chest. He folded his arms around her and being mindful of her tender backside, carefully pulled her close to spoon her. Esme murmured contentedly and relaxed into the warmth of his embrace.

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**Dr. Dom loves hearing from you...your reviews inspire all kinds of naughty things.**


	7. Catharsis

**Chapter Title: Catharsis **

**Chapter 7**

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**A/N: **This entire story started out with the title of "Perfect Control" because I was intrigued by the idea of Carlisle having to maintain such flawless control in every situation, all the time. I wanted to explore what it would look like when he let go a little bit within the safety of his relationship with Esme. This chapter is a bit of a breakdown/breakthrough for both of them. Don't worry, sweet, concerned Carlisle is still there too.

Thank you to everyone who's been following this little fic. I think there are just five of you, but I appreciate you. You're perfect and lovely.

If you haven't already, please feel free to review and/or drop me a line. Your thoughts/comments/feedback always give me good perspective and help me to develop as a writer.

Dr. Carlisle is wrapping up his doctor's orders. One more chapter left for our couple and possibly an epilogue.

**Rating**:** MA/NC-17**: Mature themes of sexuality, D/s, B&D and language. Not intended for readers under the age of 18.

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Esme's eyes fluttered open at the gentle, insistent pressure of Carlisle's lips. He paused when he saw her, his lips hovering just above her navel.

"You're awake," he said smiling, as his outstretched arm continued circling a finger over her exposed nipple.

She gasped as the sensation shot straight from her nipple down to her thighs and made her squirm uncomfortably. "You sure know how to bring someone around, Dr. Cullen."

"What can I say? It's a gift," he said, grinning.

"And to think, your handsome face is the first thing your patients see when they come to." She pursed her lips, marveling at the thought as she reached a hand down to stroke his cheek.

"Poor patients," he scoffed. "I can think of a lot of other things I'm sure they'd rather wake up to."

"Carlisle!" she chided. "Your patients are so very lucky…in so many ways," she murmured. "But I am the luckiest one…I get to see this gorgeous face every single morning." She ran her fingers through his hair and tugged him forward urgently. He slid alongside her body, keeping a hand at her waist as he brushed his thumb gently over the rise of her hip bone.

"I'm sorry love," she said softly, kissing his cheek. "I've left you alone too long."

"You needed your rest."

"Mhmm…and you need to be taken care of." She kissed him thoroughly, making soft desirous noises against his lips, pressing and pulling against them until he yielded to her. He moaned loudly as she slipped her tongue inside.

Carlisle cupped the back of her head and pulled her on top of him as he deepened the kiss, slowly gliding his tongue against hers.

Esme reached between their bodies, sliding her hand over the defined muscles of his abdomen and groin and down into his pants. His zipper was already halfway down and his belt hung loosely at the side, giving her easy access to him.

"I've neglected my wifely duties. You might have to reprimand me for that," Esme said with a smirk.

Carlisle inhaled sharply and tensed as her touch re-awakened him. His semi-hard erection immediately sprang to life again, pulsing in her hand.

"Oh, you naughty girl," he growled. "You know how I like to discipline you." He rolled her onto her back and reluctantly withdrew her hand. He grabbed both of her hands and pinned them firmly above her head at the wrists. He shifted above her, driving her chin up with the palm of his other hand and stroking her jaw softly with his thumb. He savored the vision of his hand forcing her head back so that it exposed her beautiful long neck for his pleasure. For an instant he flashed back to holding her in just the same position, seconds before he punctured her skin and tasted the sweetness of her blood. He dove in, wildly kissing and sucking the tender area beneath her jaw where her carotid artery once pulsed.

Carlisle released her neck and snaked a hand down between their bodies. He reached her bare thighs and nudged them apart, communicating his needs.

She knew very well that a touch to the thigh meant "open" but sometimes she liked to play with fire, just to ensure the burn.

She brought her thighs together denying him access, knowing full well the price she would pay for her disobedience.

"Tsk, tsk, Esme…" his voice warned. "You know what happens when you defy me." With firmer pressure, he lifted the crook of her knee and angled her leg out to the side, opening her hips to him and leaving no doubt as to who was in charge.

"Ohhh, is that what you wanted?" she asked, feigning confusion.

"You're going to have to come and get it then, Doctor." In a flash, Esme escaped his grasp and rolled away from him. She was halfway off the bed when Carlisle leapt up and snatched her around the waist. She squeaked in surprise as his steely embrace caught her and lifted her off the ground.

"Hey! Put me down!" Esme cried with an exasperated giggle. Her feet kicked and flailed in the air as he hauled her back to bed with him. With the sleek grace and agility of a jaguar, Carlisle deposited her on the bed and sprang on top of her, caging her body against the mattress with his forearms.

"Ah. Ah. Not so fast sweetheart," he murmured softly, sweeping the hair from her face. His dark eyes held a voracious gleam. "You're not going anywhere young lady. You're mine tonight, remember?"

Esme shivered as he pulled her close. The thrill of the chase always brought out the predatory lover in him that she craved so much.

"I'm going to have to think about how best to punish you for that little transgression," he mused. His fingers lightly traced a circle on her bare shoulder. "But we'll get to that later…right now I have other things on my mind."

As much as Carlisle wanted to carry out his threat, it would have to wait. More pressing needs were making their demands known. Centuries of careful practice had cultivated and honed his restraint to the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. He had managed to delay his gratification for countless hours but he suddenly found himself ravenous for release. A wave of subverted desires flooded to the surface and slammed into him, insistent and demanding that they be met.

He nudged a knee between her thighs. The arousal pooling between her legs was warm and wet against his hand as his fingers slipped between her silky folds.

His knee pressed into her, slowly rocking against her and giving Esme the satisfying friction she was frantic for as his fingers worked the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Her mouth opened in a silent cry as her nails raked over the skin of his back, sending bolts of painful pleasure directly to the throbbing source between his legs. It twitched pleasurably beneath his clothes.

Carlisle hissed as her nails dug in, but welcomed the sting. "Mmm…you're enjoying this, you naughty girl. I want to hear you scream my name when I make you come. You may call me by my first name—but only when you come. Do you understand?"

He tilted her chin up. "Nod if you understand me."

She nodded slowly.

He could feel his civilized control slipping from his grasp. A frenzy to take her was starting to build within the wild, feral core of him. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold back.

His irises burned, dark and unfathomable, smoldering with need. He inhaled her arousal deeply, nostrils flaring, licking his lips. He needed to taste the tormenting sweetness that was his wife. He wanted to kiss, suck, lick and fuck her. His aggressive thoughts startled him. He no longer wanted to make love to her, he wanted to take her, own her, make her his. His body was beginning to vibrate as he fought an internal war for control.

He caressed her small bud until Esme was gasping and slipped two fingers into wetness, thrusting in and out several times before bringing them to her lips. "Taste them," he commanded. Reading the hesitation on her face, he traced them across her lips. "Suck. _Now_."

Her eyes narrowed with suppressed fire but her lips dutifully parted, enveloping the wet, glossy fingers into her mouth.

He couldn't contain the loud groan that rumbled up from his throat at the sensation of her tongue suctioning the evidence of her arousal from his fingers. He felt greedy and wild as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, sharing the tangy, sweet taste of her.

Esme's tongue darted into the erogenous area between his fingers, flicking here and there, making Carlisle's hips jerked reflexively.

"I have to have you." His tone was low and dangerous, almost desperate, the words ground out between clenched teeth as he pressed his forehead to hers. He was a ticking time bomb of need and want.

He pulled his fingers from the humid warmth of her mouth, silky threads of their combined juices clinging wetly to her lips and chest as he trailed them over her skin and back down between her legs.

When she was breathless and panting again, he removed his fingers and moved against her with his hips. He rubbed his damp thumb against her swollen lower lip, reveling in the slick moisture there. He pushed it slowly into her mouth, exploring the texture of her sandpapery tongue as she closed over it, drawing him in.

Her cheeks hollowed as she made a slurping sound and her tongue swirled along the lines and ridges of his fingerprint. Carlisle's head fell back in pleasure. He slid his other hand into her hair and gripped the back of her neck, using this leverage to pull his hard hips into her.

"Tell me you want this," he rasped, his fingers tightening the slack in the strands of her hair. "I want to hear you say it," he panted, the urgency in his voice increasing.

"You are mine to do with as I please." Esme's gasp was ragged as he yanked her head back. Carlisle nipped at her neck, sucking it between his teeth, knowing it was hard enough to leave a mark. He sucked again at her neck, thrusting his thumb into her mouth at the same time, hoping to stimulate her enough to let go of the good wife and let the dirty girl come out to play.

While his thumb continued to simulate what his hips were itching to do, he moved down, tasting her skin with a swipe of his tongue, claiming her hard with another mark as she whimpered in a way that shot straight through to the most male part of him. Another hard kiss followed, leaving a visible trail of his domination.

Carlisle was a lost man. His head was buzzing, fire burning within him, threatening to consume all conscious thought. He needed her, he needed her to yield to him. "Say it, Esme, _goddammit_."

His hard kisses continued as he jerked his hips against her again and sank his teeth into her shoulder in one final assault.

"Agghh!" A guttural scream erupted from Esme.

Suddenly it was all too much, his demands, his words, the searing sting of his bite. Everything from the last several hours was all culminating in this one moment. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut wanting the relief that only tears would bring, but unable to shed them.

"I want you to _fuck_ me Dr. Cullen!" Galvanized by the freedom of her new voice, she took his hand and plunged it into her warm, wet sex. "Is this what you wanted?" she cried out.

"I want you to fuck me _now,_ Carlisle, with your cock, your fingers, your tongue! I am your whore. I want you to slap my ass and fuck me so hard it _hurts_!" Her voice broke with a sob on the last word.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and an utterance. Hearing his love's sweet mouth utter those words as she impaled herself on his fingers had nearly been his undoing. He swallowed hard, commanding every fiber of his being to rein in the beast within him. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nose and out through his mouth to find the will.

"_Esme_…" His groan was contrite and low, lingering on the last syllable of her name.

"It's all right sweetheart. I'm here," he said finding some modicum of control. "I'm so sorry. I lost myself for a moment."

"I'm right here," he said again as he gathered her in his arms, soothing her with small noises, stroking her hair gently back from her face.

Her chest was heaving, trying in vain to control another sob. Strands of brandy-colored hair clung damply to her forehead. She jerked her head away from him as traitorous tears pooled in her eyes. "No, don't," she managed, stilling his hand as he reached for her. "I'm fine."

She was beautiful when she was angry, even more so with smudges of black mascara around her eyes that made her appear wild and vulnerable at the same time. Her jaw was hard, eyes dark and furious, glistening with unshed tears. She met the concern in his gaze with a defiant tilt to her chin.

At that moment, Carlisle didn't care about breaking a scene, safe words, or dominance. His only concern was for his wife. Carlisle knew that a caring, responsible Dominant would know not only how to communicate and continue effectively, but when not to continue at all and switch immediately to aftercare. He was currently assessing the situation.

"Sweetheart, are you all right?" he asked, softly stroking her face. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

When she didn't respond, he tried again.

"Esme, honey, look at me." He cupped her cheek softly. "I need to make sure you're all right."

When she spoke, her voice was low but fierce. She practically spat the words at him. "Don't you dare fucking stop."

Carlisle's eyebrow lifted, but he quickly contained his surprise. He breathed in deeply, searching her face and recognizing that she was experiencing an emotional release at his hands. They were both aware that BDSM play could be one of the most powerful ways for a couple to communicate emotions, but Carlisle also knew that emotional and physical aftercare would be vitally important.

The emotional experience of catharsis in situations like this could be painful, but necessary. Acting out power dynamics in sexual situations often brought old hurts and traumas to the surface. It became the trigger for whatever emotional breakdown needed to happen in order for healing to occur. It happened not only to submissives, but to dominants as well. If this is what she needed Carlisle thought, he would be the one to give it to her, but it was also his responsibility to guide her safely through the experience.

"Esme…" he paused, feeling conflicted as he searched her eyes.

"I'm fine," she whispered with a deep, shuddering breath.

Carlisle took a deep but unnecessary breath as well. The very human nature of it helped steady him. He straightened his back. "Okay," he said softly. "Do you remember your safe words?"

She nodded again.

"Out loud, please. What color, Esme?"

She sniffed again but her voice was firm. "Green, Sir."

"Are you ready to resume?"

She nodded. "Yes, Sir."

He tenderly kissed her cheek, confident they were both ready to continue.

"That was a good release, pet," he praised, resuming his role as her dominant. "You deserve to be rewarded."

He reached into the nightstand drawer and withdrew a black blindfold, looping its silky texture around one fist and pulling it taut with the other.

He slipped the tie over Esme's eyes and secured it tightly behind her head. Esme was immediately plunged into darkness and sensory deprivation. With one of her senses removed, all four of Esme's other senses went into hyper-drive.

"Can you hear my voice, love?" His words floated in the air around her. In the darkness, it seemed she could feel, hear and even taste the pitch and cadence of his words.

"Yes," she whispered, sniffling but sounding stronger. A dark trail of mascara escaped the blindfold and smudged her cheek.

"Yes, what?" he asked, tenderly wiping the smudge with the pad of his thumb.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen."

"Good girl."

She felt him shift beside her. He pulled her against him, embracing her from behind. With one arm cradling her head, he reached the other over her body and caressed her breast. He brushed his fingers lightly over her hip bone and between her legs. She jerked sharply, surprised.

"Can you feel my fingers on you?" His breath was comforting against her ear as his touch jolted her again like an electric current. She could feel his masculine warmth, smell the spice of his cologne, his sweet breath, and feel the texture of his chest hair as tickled against her back. Those sensations all paled in comparison to that of his dexterous fingers exploring her.

"Yes, Doctor Cullen," she whispered, arching her back into him and tugging her lower lip between her teeth.

"Very good." He squeezed her breast with one hand while lightly tapping her mound with the fingers of the other. She moaned louder. He increased the pressure, and flicked his wrist quickly three times in succession.

After each slap, his fingers soothed and circled. He rested his hand on her and pushed the tip of his finger back inside her. He slid out of her and up to her clit. Using his index and middle fingers, he slowly circled it. She exhaled deeply and let out a slight moan. The deprivation of sight intensified each and every breath he exhaled against her skin, the texture of his hands and the fierce intensity of his longing.

When she was breathless and panting, he sucked at her neck and swatted her sharply between the legs with another quick flick of his wrist. She jerked in his arms, whimpering softly and arching away from the sting as he held her tightly in place.

He caressed, teased and lightly slapped her again, maximizing her arousal before slipping his fingers back into her. He gently rubbed up and down over her outer folds, before slowly inserting his middle finger just slightly. Withdrawing it slowly, he pushed it back in again until she was nearing what would be her second release of the night.

He shifted suddenly, removing his hand, but before she could acknowledge the aching void he'd created, he was straddling her hips. He planted his knees on either side of her, pinning her to the bed beneath his weight, feeling his erection throb uncomfortably within the confines of his now too-tight pants.

He rocked back on his bare feet to touch her again, pressing hard circles against her with his index and third fingers. He groaned loudly and closed his eyes reveling in the silky, wet feel of her as he pistoned several fingers in and out of her.

"I want to hear you moan. You may express your desire loudly," he said.

"_Nnnghh_…_Please. Don't. Stop, Sir,"_ was all she could manage, grinding the words out between clenched teeth.

He inhaled deeply, bathing in the uniquely musky scent of her arousal that drove him wild, reflexively cupping her mound, wanting to tease and torture her with his fingers, his lips, his hard shaft.

"My God, so beautiful," he whispered. Esme was the visual embodiment of all of his fantasies. Using both his hands and his lips, he took a minute to touch and admire the beautiful peaks and valleys of his wife's body now lying supine and blindfolded beneath him.

Esme cried out as he eagerly devoured her exposed skin and dipped the tip of his tongue into her belly button, dragging a wet line to the edge of her neatly trimmed curls.

"I'm afraid that your fever is only going to get higher before it breaks," Carlisle said, breathing heavily. "Because my beautiful Mrs. Cullen, you're about to get a doctor-patient _fucking_ like you've never had."

He pulled her roughly to the edge of the bed so her legs dangled over the side and slid down to his knees between her legs. He spread her legs, hooking his arms under her thighs, so that her feet dangled on his shoulders and she was completely exposed before him. Using his tongue, he circled her clit, pressing it up and against her pubic bone while thrusting two fingers roughly into her and flexing them upward, hitting that elusive spot.

Esme cried out loudly at the sudden intrusion and powerful sensations flooding through her. Carlisle thrust his tongue in and out of her, teasing the nub of her clit with skilled fingers.

"I want to hear you when you come," he whispered against her skin, intensifying his ministrations.

"Oh God, Carlisle!" cried out, lifting her pelvis and writhing against the combined assault of his fingers and tongue. Carlisle's fingers worked furiously and he moaned against her skin, sending the vibrations deep within her. She stilled for a moment and then shook beneath him. She collapsed heavily against the bed, thoroughly spent.

Carlisle never tired of watching his beautiful wife come undone at his hands. Crawling back onto the bed, he lifted her languid body gently beside him and wrapped his arms around her as she caught her breath.

As she recovered, he gently removed her blindfold, letting her eyes adjust to the light. She blinked several times and smiled slowly at him.

"Hello beautiful," he said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"You are amazing," she whispered.

"We're not done yet, love."

He began removing his belt, deliberately letting her feel the weight of the buckle against her stomach before drawing it slowly from his waist, one loop at a time. She eyed it cautiously wondering if he had other uses in mind for it as it slid off the bed and to the floor with a heavy _thwump_.

His zipper followed, blissfully releasing his aching member from its prison. He jerked his pants and underwear down in one quick motion, leaning to one side as he slid them down his legs and kicked them off.

Carlisle's erection was stunning as it sprang free. Fully erect, the smooth, silky skin was drawn tight around his shaft as it pulsed against his groin.

"Touch it," he demanded.

Esme lowered her eyes and watched him from beneath her lashes as she wet her palm with one languid stroke of her tongue. She reached for him, closing a soft fist around it and pulled up to the wet tip. Carlisle's eyes rolled backward as an involuntary moan escaped his lips. He'd never seen his sweet wife make such a particularly lewd sexual gesture and he found it extremely erotic.

He placed his hand over the top of hers and squeezed more tightly, pumping his hips while guiding her to move faster with him in a rapid up and down rhythm.

"Just like that," he groaned. "Oh God, yes," he breathed through clenched teeth. She sped up her strokes and cupped him, skillfully teasing him with the palm of her hand and delicate fingers.

"So good," he moaned, as his eyes closed and his head fell back.

Esme continued to pump him harder and faster until Carlisle groaned loudly, quickly finding his release. His body sagged with the relief he so desperately needed. He kissed her cheek lovingly and took a minute to enjoy the afterglow of a long-denied orgasm…but still, he longed to feel the warmth of Esme as she completely surrounded him.

Still hard, he swiftly grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her head. "Look at me," he commanded softly. He reached down beside the bed to retrieve his belt. He looped it around his hand and pulled tight. "You know you want this. You want to be under my control."

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So...Carlisle finally gets nekkid...and gets some much needed relief! Unnff...


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